


Incorrect Love

by bug_from_space



Series: Requiem for the Dreamer (Poetry) [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, Poetry, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: To the Victor the spoils, and we were never the Victors, my Love.





	Incorrect Love

 

**_We are on the losing side of history, my dear._ **

 

Somewhere the princess scales her tower

And Icarus emerges from the sea-- unharmed

And star-crossed lovers get a happy ending

 

But that somewhere is not here.

In this story the princess remains captured

Icarus drowns in the uncaring sea, arms burned by his lover

And the star-crossed lovers never defy the stars

 

Here we break each other’s hearts

And pretend that we still believe in romance

All while never trying to break the monotony

 

**_We are on the wrong side of history, my darling._ **

 

Somewhere the act of our own self-destruction

Is nothing more than an ill begotten fantasy

Where the skies are blue and the trains are always late

 

But that somewhere is not here.

The science of our own ruination remains a mystery

However much we fantasize about a paradise

Where the sky is lilac and the trains arrive on time

 

Here we cling to each other as 

we dance on the ledges of skyscrapers

Hoping to fall down and apart.

 

**_We are on the failing side of history, my beloved._ **

 

Somewhere the sky doesn’t scream with bombs and thunder

And the internet is never censored as we scream

For news of a war that’s too close to home

 

But that somewhere is not here.

The artist’s sunset is rubbed dirty with ash

The internet is a minefield of too political and too problematic

And we are never awarded the luxury of a distant war

 

Here the people lose all sense of independence

As we struggle in a mob against the machine

That’s slowly moving over all of us--uncaring

 

**_To the Victor the spoils, and we were never the Victors, my Love._ **


End file.
